The Campaign
by Sarah J. Pufflepod
Summary: Hermione knew running for Minister of Magic would be hard. What she didn't anticipate was all the headaches her campaign manager would bring her.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This is my first fic, so I would really appreciate all feedback both positive and constructive criticism. I plan on this story being longer, at least 20 chapters or so (possibly more), but I don't have a set plan yet. I plan on updating every week, but that is just a rough timeline and will vary based on my schedule.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Chapter 1**

"Escort or guide," Hermione mused quietly to herself. "To escort us into a new era, or to guide us into a new era?" She took a swig of the nearly tepid coffee sitting in front of her, gone cold while she debated word choice. It just had to be perfect. This article would set the tone for her entire campaign, her entire life really. "Guide, I think," she mumbled, "escort sounds far too pretentious."

"Talking to yourself Granger dear?" Hermione heard from a haughty voice towering above her. "You know that's not a good sign, some might worry you've already cracked, and nobody wants a Minister who is a few puffs short of a puffle."

"What are you on about, Malfoy?" she groaned. Her head was still down, but unfortunately his signature drawl alerted the woman to the identity of the arsehole hovering over the table.

Malfoy took a swig of Hermione's coffee and promptly spit it out "Merlin fucking shite Granger, what is wrong with you, you can't even keep it together long enough to order fresh coffee." As he continued on, he waved the waitress over and ordered two fresh cups.

"You aren't sitting here," The Gryffindor stated, still looking down at her paper.

"Au contraire Grangiepoo, I can sit anywhere I want. I own this shop."

"Of course you do, and may I ask how do you even know about my campaign? I haven't even announced yet," she challenged.

"I've had one of my guys following you, and I must say Granger you are quite dull, but I will say I can't fault you your choice of knickers," he casually drawled.

"WHAT?!" The small brunette screamed, standing up and bumping the table, thankfully not spilling coffee in the process.

"Salazar, Granger! I was kidding, I was reading your paper over your shoulder, you really are unobservant aren't you?"

"I will admit, sometimes I get a little zoned out when I work, but that is no excuse to go around snooping. Besides, that's just creepy."

"Some say creepy, I say attentive."

"Whatever Malfoy, now as adorable as this witty banter is can we please cut to the reason you are being so "attentive"?

"No, I'd rather poke about a bit more," he said, "so, do Potty Mouth and his grotesque sidekick know about your campaign?"

"Not that it is any of your concern, but yes they do," Hermione huffed. This was starting to get very old very fast, couldn't he just leave her to work in peace? It was none of his business who knew about her campaign, he wasn't even supposed to know in the first place!

"Well then why aren't they here slaving over parchment with you, I mean I know you are a human thesaurus and all, but even reference materials can use friendly support." She could hear the smirk in his voice even without looking.

"They have other plans", she responded shortly.

"Ooh I sense some resentment lurking.." he said in a singsong voice. "Hmm Scarface and Weasel not being so supportive, do I sense trouble in paradise? Please tell me it's because you're in love with Potter. I hate that guy, but I would do anything to see Weasley get dumped."

"For your information, again not that it is any of your concern, but Harry is like my brother," the woman hesitated, "and Ron and I are no longer together, " she said through gritted teeth.

"Since when? I saw you in the papers being, well, your disgusting selves, literally yesterday," he inquired with raised eyebrows.

"Since I told him I was running for Minister," she continued through my clenched teeth.

"Are you serious right now Granger? He not only isn't supporting you, but dumped you over it, that is low even for him. He is probably sour that he won't be the one getting all the attention," Malfoy exclaimed.

Hermione couldn't admit to Malfoy that he hit the proverbial kniffler on the nose, but he really had. When the witch told Ron and Harry that she wanted to run for minister, Harry was weirdly quiet, and Ron started by telling me that her was being unsupportive of his career as an auror, and ended by calling her a "plain, attention starved hussy, (hussy, really?). Harry didn't say much, but after Ron left, he quickly apologized for his behavior, and apparated out. She haven't heard from either of them since.

She shook her head as Malfoy's voice brought her back into reality, "Seriously Granger, you were zoning out again, I am starting to think you really are an unfit candidate."

"I'm not unfit, I just have a lot on my mind," the woman retorted, shaking her head. "Besides, what does it matter to you anyway?"

"Because my sweet sweet Granger Dumpling, I am going to be your campaign manager."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Let's forget my obvious objections to this for a moment, because, I honestly have no words, but why in the seven hells would you want to be my campaign manager?" Hermione asked, not quite sure that she heard him correctly.

"Honestly, I am dreadfully bored," he quipped haughtily. "I thought this not having a job thing would be great, but it is quite a bit more difficult than it looks. Heavy drinking, sleeping the days away, shagging the hottest witches in Britain. It really does wear one out. Let's just say I'm looking for a change of pace," he droned as if he actually believed what he was saying.

"Uh huh," was the only response the petite woman could think of. "Last I checked, you weren't exactly the biggest supporter of muggleborns, why would you want one to be minister?" She asked suspiciously.

"Well Granger pie, things change. After the war, after seeing all the destruction that baseless prejudice brought, I realized I was wrong. What my parents taught me all those years was nothing but a load of shite, and I was just dumb enough to believe it. But I am not that boy anymore. That changed the moment my father forced me to get that horrible mark burned into my arm."

She couldn't deny that his argument was quite convincing, She knew that he had changed, She just really hadn't understood the why or how of it. She just figured he had matured out of his old beliefs.

"Okay," the witch started, "What makes you think you are qualified to manage my campaign?"

"Well what makes you think I'm not?" he challenged, his well practiced smirk still in place. "Granger dear, what makes you think you are qualified for minister? What is the basis of your campaign?"

"Change," she responded quickly.

"Uh huh, very original," he cracked, "change what exactly?"

"Everything," she said.

"Yeah Granger, real solid campaign promises there, signal number one that you need me." His raised eyebrows showed what he thought of her words.

"No. You don't get what I am saying," the woman elaborated. "We won the war, but really nothing has changed. Voldemort is gone, and that is an obvious victory, but the overall feeling in the wizarding world is exactly the same as it was before he came back. Sure muggleborns aren't openly hunted for sport, but we still hold a disproportionately low amount of jobs in the ministry and education, and don't even get me started on the Wizenmagot. If we don't change the societal conditions and underlying prejudice against muggleborns, then how can we really be sure that someone new won't come and take advantage of those just like Voldemort did?"

Hermione could have continued on for hours, but his cutting voice stopped her. "Granger!" he practically yelled.

"What?!" she exclaimed, "I know you still aren't all warm fuzzy and for muggleborns, but I thought you had changed just a little!"

"No Granger. he said "I think you have your campaign announcement."

"What do you mean?" Hermione said, eyes narrowed, "of course I do. It's sitting right here, half done," she said, gesturing to the half-full parchment.

"Not that tripe," he dismissed. "What you just told me. That should be your campaign announcement."

"I don't know Malfoy, don't you think it sounds a little too rough?"

"Exactly," he spoke softly. "That's what you have that the others don't. Listen, please let me just try this. I will draft an announcement based on what you told me and submit it tonight for tomorrow morning's Prophet. If it goes over well, hire me. You don't even have to pay me. I am just looking for something worthwhile to do with my time. If it doesn't go well, you can fire me and go on with your campaign like it didn't happen. Just please, give it a chance." His grey eyes held something akin to sincerity, far from the disgust and mirth usually found there.

"Okay," Hermione replied softly. "I'll keep my eye on the Prophet."

"Thanks Granger," he said, almost sounding relieved. "You won't regret it."


	3. Chapter 3

**Everything but the plot belongs to the lovely JK Rowling.**

Chapter 3

Draco lounged at his kitchen table, coffee in hand, with this morning's copy of the Prophet sitting on the table in front of him. Hermione's announcement had made the front page and he could not have been more pleased. The reporter had included the draft that he had sent in the previous night, as well as some details about Hermione's part in the war and her 7 year long stint at the Department for Regulation of Magical Creatures. He felt the article droned on a bit too long about her fight for regulations on the treatment of pygmy puffs (seriously those things are so annoying who really cares?), but overall it was well done.

After reading and mentally critiquing the article, his thoughts turned to the witch herself. She really was quite the pain in his arse, and he had quite a nice arse, so it really was a shame. Now that he was thinking of it, her arse wasn't something to turn your nose up at, at least from what he could tell when she made her exit the previous day. But that was neither here nor there. Besides, she was far too much of a hassle to consider in that way anyhow. Nope. The only thing he wanted from her was distraction from his boring life. He supposed having some sort of fulfilling occupation would be nice as well. It would be nice to do something he could be proud of.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the tap of an owl on his window. It must have been a heavy mail morning, because the owl was clearly struggling to stay in the air. Every few seconds it would drop below the outer sill of the window, then come back up, barely able to stay afloat. He quickly opened the window with an irritated groan, and the poor bird practically broke its neck tumbling inside the kitchen.

Once the bird dropped its load, he understood why it was struggling. He had quite the stack of mail this morning. Not that he was surprised. What could he say? He was a popular guy. Who wouldn't want to write someone with his striking features? Well, at least in his own opinion. He flipped through the mail quickly. Letter from his father, garbage. Letter from his mother, read later. Letter from Tuesday night's shag, which smelled far too strongly of perfume, garbage. The third letter caught his eye. It was addressed to him in swotty little handwriting he knew belonged to queen swot herself.

He tore the letter open quickly. It bore a simple message. "7pm. I'll open my floo to you."

He smiled, quite self satisfied. He knew she would come around. Plus now he had an excuse to cancel his date tonight with Sharon. No...was it Charlene? Well whatever her name was, he would much rather meet with Granger than sit through dinner with another boring bint. "What a pathetic thought" he said to himself. "I really need to get my priorities straight."

When 7pm rolled around, Draco began to dress for his meeting. He didn't want to arrive perfectly on time. Seems to overeager. Plus, he knew the perfect Gryffindor princess would get all indignant over his tardiness, and that was always good for a laugh. Plus, she looked hot when she got all riled up, but that was another thought he wouldn't let himself dwell on. When he was ready, and a good 15 minutes late, he stepped into the floo and announced "Granger's house," as he disappeared into the green flames.

"You're late," Granger immediately spoke as he exited the floo, apparently annoyed.

"Yeah well, I am a terribly busy guy, you know obligations and such," Draco retorted, feigning boredom.

As he endured Granger's predictable lecture on punctuality, he took in his surroundings. He appeared to be in a small flat. It was small, but not altogether aesthetically appalling, much like the witch herself, he mused. The dark wood floors were adorned with some sort of woven rug, and a cozy looking grey couch was settled on the back wall of the room, across from some strange looking black box. He would have to ask her about that on another occasion. Between the couch and the strange contraption sat a simple wooden coffee table. He wondered if she was baking cookies, based on the wonderful smell wafting around the humble flat.

"Malfoy, are you even listening to me?" Hermione interrupted his thoughts.

"Yes, of course, I believe you were imparting on me the virtue of being on time. Manners and all that." She sighed, apparently giving up on her diatribe.

"Well, I suppose we might as well get started," she said matter of factly. "Can I offer you anything, wine, beer, coffee?"

"Umm sure, I'll have a "beer" Draco said questioningly, confused as to why she was abbreviating butterbeer. Hermione dipped away to the kitchen and came back with two beverages that appeared to be butterbeer, but more transparent. Was it old? Was she really that uncouth that she was trying to unload expired beverages on him? He took a sip, partly out of politeness (he wasn't quite sure why he cared what Granger thought of his manners), partly out of curiosity.

His first sip informed him that it was definitely one of two things. It was either the oldest, most putrid butterbeer he had ever had the displeasure of tasting, or it was not butterbeer at all.

"Jesus Merline Shite Granger, what the fuck is this piss!?" he exclaimed.

Granger seemed to find the entire situation much too entertaining for his liking. In fact, she could hardly contain her laughter. Tears welling up in her eyes, she managed to get out "Oh Malfoy I completely forgot to mention that wasn't butterbeer, It is muggle beer. They're very different." She continued laughing for several minutes until she calmed down. Despite the questionable taste, he continued to drink the muggle beverage. He had a feeling he was going to need the alcohol to get through this evening.


	4. Chapter 4

**Everything except for the plot belongs to JK Rowling.**

Chapter 4

The next few weeks consisted of Hermione going to work every day, then having strategy meetings with Draco each night. She was starting to suspect that he was getting a taste for muggle beer. He pretended it disgusted him, but continued to request one each night.

She was surprised to learn he didn't live at the manor, but she supposed she understood. As he said "Most birds aren't all that keen when they find out you've invited them back to your parents' house."

The meetings were mostly about forming policy positions and figuring out a strategy to get her message across. They had run a few simple ads in the prophet, and so far had mostly positive feedback from muggle borns and half bloods, and even some more progressively minded purebloods, but the older members of the Sacred 28 were a whole other story.

Hermione was pleased to find that they were getting along relatively well, aside from their heated arguments, and the fact that Draco referred to her with strange food related terms of endearment (see Granger pudding pop, little Granger souffle, extra small Granger sundae...you get the picture) just to get a rise out of her. Besides those little obstacles, things were sailing along.

It was one such evening, when problems started to arise. They were heatedly discussing how on earth Hermione was going to get the the majority vote of the, almost exclusively pureblood, Wizenmagot. As part of the new "protections" against radical groups coming in and taking power, it was now required that candidates for Minister must win the majority vote of the Wizenmagot, in addition to the popular vote. This posed quite a challenge for the muggle born witch.

It was during a particularly spirited debate of how to this pureblood elite tribunal, when the floo roared and Harry Potter and Ron Weasley stumbled out of the fire. Hermione snapped her eyes up in surprise. She hadn't spoken to either wizard since she told them of her intent to run. Come to think of it, she hadn't heard from any of the Weasleys in quite some time.

Harry was rapidly shifting his gaze between her and Malfoy, his face warring between confusion and anger. Ron seemed not to even have noticed, his face staring down at the rug.

"Hermione", he started I came to apologize for..." he stopped dead in his tracks when he realized who else was in the room. "What is HE doing here?" he practically screamed.

"Draco is my campaign manager," Hermione replied coldly. She didn't actually call him Draco to his face, but she was still quite upset with Ron, and she thought seeming more comfortable with Draco than she really was would get the desired reaction.

"Sure he is," Ron retorted with a look of disgust. "I bet all candidates get cozy on the couch with their 'managers'."

"For your information RONALD, not that it is any of your business anymore, but we are on opposite ends of the couch, not to mention it is the only place to sit in the room!" she declared incredulously.

Harry continued to quietly look between Hermione and Draco, as if his surprise had rendered him mute.

Draco didn't think he could take it anymore. How could this sad excuse for a wizard talk to her like that? Sure, Draco fought with her, and often said unkind things, but she was his to do that to, not Weasley's. He was disturbed by the strangely possessive thought, but didn't have time to dwell on it, even if he wanted to. Which he didn't. Before he could think anymore concerning thoughts, he broke into the argument.

"Weasley, I don't know what you think you are doing, but you are clearly not welcome here. There is nothing going on between Hermione and I, and even if there was, you clearly have no say in that seeing as you have been a terribly unsupportive friend, and I can only imagine, an atrocious boyfriend. You need to leave before I take it upon myself to escort you out."

"THIS IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS FERRET. HERMIONE IS MINE AND THIS IS HER FLAT, SO YOU DON'T GET TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO!" Ron screamed, the red of his face warring with that of his hair. "

Ron's declaration was the last draw for Hermione "How dare you Ronald!" she fumed as she walked toward him and poked her finger firmly into his chest. "I am no longer your girlfriend. Even if I was, I was never, and will never be your property. You pointed out that this is my flat, and it is, so I am asking you to leave."

"Fine Hermione, you know what," Ron started "I came here to apologize, but now that I know that you're slagging around with Malfoy, I take back my apology. I meant what I said anyway. You are an ugly, boring slag who is so starved for attention that you will stoop to the likes of Malfoy!" With that Ron stormed into the floo and disappeared.

Harry stood, seemingly trying to absorb the events. "Hermione," he said quietly, "you know Ron he's just mad he'll cool off."

Hermione shook her head "Don't Harry," she said "don't you even start to make excuses for him."

Harry opened and closed his mouth. Then seemed to come to a decision. "Seriously Hermione, Malfoy?" he questioned.

Hermione gave him a look of disappointment as he disappeared into the floo, tears welling up in her eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**This wondeful world, and these wonderful characters belong to JK Rowling. Only the plot is mine.**

Chapter 5

Draco sat and watched in shock as silent tears ran down the face of the witch before him. He had no idea what to do. He was awful with crying women. Experience had taught him that he typically made it worse, so he decided to simply shut up and wait it out.

Doing nothing did not seem to be working. After five minutes of watching Granger crumple in on herself, Draco decided something had to be done. Reluctantly, he slowly began to rub soft circles on her back. He quickly realized the awkwardness of the situation. He was on the complete opposite side of the sofa from her, literally leaning over to be able to reach her. He supposed he would have to move closer. As he moved to sit next to her, she fell into him. Apparently all her strength left with her so called friends. As she clung to him, he continued rubbing soothing circles into her back. Her sweater was really quite soft. He wondered fleetingly if it was cashmere. He would have to ask at a more opportune time.

Still unsure what to do, he began whispering soft reassurances to her. "Shhh Granger, it's going to be okay. They are pricks, and you can find much better friends than ones who ditch you because you are trying to make the world a better place." She sniffled and made a high pitched mewling sound in response.

"I'm actually quite surprised at Potter, I thought Gryffindor's were supposed to be loyal."

"He is being loyal, just not to the right person," Hermione said through the tears.

"Well Weasel's antics don't shock me. He has always been a world class arshole. I mean who acts like that to someone who they supposedly care about." She said nothing in response, but shrugged and began to dry her eyes on her shirtsleeve.

Three days after Harry and Ron's unannounced visit, the news Draco and Hermione had been waiting for finally came.

Hermione was awoken, just as the sun came up, by a small black owl tapping at her bedroom window. The small animal held in its beak a rolled up copy of the day's Prophet, and a small note that read "Front page," in Malfoy's familiar script.

She was quite surprised to learn that he was up this early. Experience and several angry rants had taught her not to disturb him before noon. Apparently the owl did not fly both ways.

Hermione ripped open the paper to the front page, and staring back at her was just what she had anticipating. The pompous face of Percy Weasley looked back at her, smiling, with a glint in his eye that almost seemed malicious.

They had been anticipating the announcement of his candidacy for minister for weeks now. He was the obvious choice for the job, seeing as he was currently serving as the undersecratary to the current minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was set to retire at the end of this term.

Kinsley was been a nice man, and he had started out his tenure as minister with the best of intentions of reform and change, but time had dulled his passion. Over the past several years, he seemed to be more content to let the status quo be, rather than fight the hard fights. Hermione was determined not to let the same happen to her.

After staring at the picture for some minutes, Hermione's eyes shifted to the article following, and she began to read.

 _PERCY WEASLEY MAKES HIS CANDIDACY OFFICIAL_

 _After much speculation in the Wizarding World as to if he would throw his hat into the ring, Undersecratary to the Minister, Percy Weasley, has officially declared his candidacy for Minister of Magic. Mr. Weasley is up against the famous Hermione Granger, who was running unopposed until now._

 _Ms. Granger has been a strong advocate for change since she declared her candidacy. In contrast, Mr. Weasley says that his campaign will be anchored in his strong beliefs in upholding the longstanding traditions of wizarding society._

 _Mr. Weasley's official announcement reads as the following._

" _ **Witches and Wizards, it is my honor to officially announce to you my candidacy for Minister of Magic. This post is one of the most respected and honored positions in our society, and I plan to do it justice.**_

 _ **If elected, I will continue the time honored traditions set forth by our forefathers dating back to Merlin, while speaking out against the radical change that threatens the fabric of our fragile post-war society.**_

 _ **Speaking on radical change, I must wholeheartedly oppose the views and the policy positions espoused by my opponent, Hermione Granger. I thoroughly respect Ms. Granger, and she has proven to be one of the brightest minds of this generation. She is a great friend to my family, and an honorable woman. However, she is misguided in her attempts to abolish laws and practices that have served us well for hundreds of years.**_

 _ **I hope that you will all make the right decision for our society and our world, and vote for me. A vote for me is a vote for tradition and stability in these unstable times.**_

 _ **Sincerely,**_

 _ **Percival Ignatius Weasley**_

Hermione threw the paper down, mumbling about large ginger heads, and started a fresh pot of coffee. She would owl into work and tell them that she wouldn't be in today. She and Malfoy had a lot to get done.


	6. Chapter 6

**As usual, everything but the plot belongs to JK rowling.**

Chapter 6

After owling into work, and starting a very large, very strong pot of coffee, Hermione flooed Malfoy and told him to get his pale arse to her flat, immediately.

Malfoy stumbled out the floo a mere three minutes later, and she already had a cup of hot coffee waiting for him. She had prepared it just the way he liked it, with cream, no sugar, and a very strong stasis charm.

They sat in silence for a few moments, using their drinks as an excuse to mull over their own thoughts.

"I know we have been planning for this," Hermione finally spoke, "but what do we do now?"

"We fight back," Draco stated plainly. "We planned for him to start off slower, to introduce himself as a more moderate candidate, when in fact he might has well have declared that you are the antichrist. "

"How do you know what the antichrist is Malfoy? That's a muggle expression. I almost feel as if I might be rubbing off on you."

"Don't flatter yourself, Granger, I read. I know you are used to Potty Mouth and Weasel, so this may come as a surprise, but you are not the only one who has more than a tentative grasp on the English language."

Hermione was surprised to find that she had no urge to defend them. Honestly, she felt quite exhausted of trying to stay loyal to them, when they obviously did not hold the same conviction towards her. She sat quietly for a moment, absorbed in thought.

"I just can't help but think that if people could really walk a mile in another's shoes, they would see right through his 'tradition' shite," She mused aloud.

"Well let's make them do just that then," Draco replied.

"What do you mean?"

"I think I have an idea," Draco began, "We take out a huge ad in the Daily prophet every Sunday until the election. That's about 12 weeks still, right?"

"Okay, I am fine with ad's," Hermione said slowly, "but how does that have anything to do with what we were talking about?"

"Just let me finish Granger! Keep your knickers on for a moment. These aren't going to be your run of the mill political ads. We will frame them as articles. You want people to be able to see our society from the perspective of the people you are fighting for. Well, let's give them that perspective! We get muggleborns, werewolves, anyone facing oppression under 'tradition' and have them give their side of the story, like a peek into their day to day lives. It will humanize them to the public, and you don't even have to put your name on it. The point is that people read it and think 'Hmm maybe that Granger girl has the right of things," saying the last part in a humorous old man voice.

"I knew I hired you for a reason," Hermione said with a smirk.

They needed to get started right away, as it was Friday and the first ad would run in two days time.

The first thing Hermione did was owl the ministry to ask for an extended leave of absence until the election was over. At which time, she would either return to work, or help find her replacement. If they were going to do this campaign right, she would need to dedicate all her time to it.

After several hours of heated debate on who should be featured in the first ad, they still had not come to an agreement.

"Grangipoo, I'm hungry," whined Draco, in his most annoying voice.

"I'm not your house elf, go get something out of the fridge," Hermione retorted.

"I tried that an hour ago, all you have in there is alcohol and half a jar of pickles," said Draco, eyebrows raised.

"Get your judgemental eyebrows away from me! And fine! We will go to Diagon Alley, I need to pick up something at the apothecary anway."

"Grangiboo, why couldn't we have just gone to the Leaky Cauldron first," Draco continued his whining, trailing behind Hermione towards the apothecary. "We were in there, Hermione! We flooed to the Leaky Cauldron, and you made us leave so you could get some weird something or other at the apothecary."

"You know, you could have just stayed behind and gotten us a table," Hermione replied. "I didn't say you had to come with me."

"I wasn't about to stay in that wretched hole by myself! What if some commoner tried to talk to me? Gross!" Draco dramatized. Hermione simply rolled her eyes in response.

After watching Hermione dawdle indecisively about whether to buy whole lacewing flies or ground lacewing flies, Draco finally hurried her out of the shop. Couldn't she see he was dying here? He hadn't eaten since breakfast, she really would be a terrible house elf.

Draco was so caught up in his internal grumblings that he didn't notice Molly Weasley walking down the street until she was storming towards them with a look that Draco could only describe as "murder eyes."

Hermione seemed glued to the spot. When Molly stopped dead in front of her, she managed a shaky "Good afternoon Molly, how are you?"

"HOW AM I?" the Weasley Matriarch cried. "How do you think I am? We took you into our home! We treated you like one of our own, and this is the thanks you give us?! Not only did you decide to try to upstage my precious Percy, but you had the nerve to cheat on my poor baby Ronald with this, this, this SNAKE!"

Draco expected Hermione to be frozen in shock, but the reality was quite the opposite. She firmly stood her ground opposite the red-headed woman.

"Molly," she firmly began, "I think you've gotten the wrong end of the stick. I declared my candidacy before Percy did. I suspected he might want to run, but he hadn't said anything to me. Even if he had, I think that I deserve a chance just as much as he does. As for Ronald, he broke up with me weeks ago, after calling me quite a few names I won't stoop to repeat. He did this before Draco became my campaign manager. Yes, campaign manager, and that's all he is."

Molly's eyes still shone with fire as she replied. "Sure, I've heard all about your little 'campaign manager,' and I don't believe that's all this is. Not for one second! I thought I would have you as a daughter someday, but I should have seen you for what you truly are, a social climbing tramp!" Molly screamed.

"I'm sorry that's how you feel Molly. Give my best to Arthur," Hermione calmly replied.


	7. Chapter 7

**All the good stuff belongs to JK Rowling.**

Chapter 7

When Sunday morning rolled around, Hermione awoke early. She was ready and waiting with a cup of coffee when the mail owl arrived with The Daily Prophet. Over lunch at the Leaky on Friday, Draco and Hermione had finally come to agreement on who would be featured in the first ad. Once the paper was in her hands, she eagerly snapped it open and read.

 _Dean Thomas - My Story_

 _Hello Readers. Most of you have probably never heard of me. I am not like most people you read about in the paper. I am nobody really, but I have been given the chance to tell my story, and I don't want to waste it, so here goes._

 _I was raised in London by my mother and my stepfather, both muggles. I don't know my father. Ever since I got my Hogwarts letter, I figured he must have been a wizard, but I really don't know. Since I don't know my father, and I was raised as a muggle, I get treated as a muggle-born. I have no qualms about being "muggle-born," at least in name. Blood has no matter to me, but unfortunately it matters greatly in our world._

 _I first encountered prejudice at Hogwarts. I was no stranger to bullying and being called mudblood. Really, it was nothing major compared to what others had to endure, but it wasn't pleasant, to say the least. I later found out that Hogwarts was a pleasant shelter and reprieve from the prejudice that runs rampant in our society._

 _Honestly, I never really thought much about blood until the war. When the Muggleborn Registration Commission was set up, I ran. I wasn't sure what would happen to me either way. If I ran, I wasn't safe. If I stayed, I wasn't safe. All I knew was that I had to stay away from my family to keep them safe. I knew being anywhere near them was to put them in danger. That was the hardest part. Leaving my mother and little sisters was worse torture than anything else I endured._

 _After a while I was found and captured, like many others. Thankfully, I was saved by some friends, and didn't have to endure the horrors and torture that others underwent._

 _After the war I thought all the prejudice would be over. That was the whole idea right? I was wrong, but at least it is safe for us now. It does feel good, If not still slightly strange, to be able to walk around without fear of being caught and called to court to defend my magic, the constant threat of my wand being snapped looming over my head._

 _Although the safety is nice, things haven't been all that great since the war. I, like many other muggleborns with average credentials, have had a very hard time finding and keeping work. I am often looked over for positions because of my blood. Sure, people don't say that, but when I find out who got a job I was passed over for, it is usually a pureblood._

 _I have been laid off several times from jobs I really liked. There is no official policy in the ministry about layoffs, but when cuts come it always happens that the muggleborns go first. It's been hard keeping a roof over my head these past few years, but I am still trying. I haven't given up yet._

 _A few weeks ago I applied for a job in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, a job I am well qualified for by the way. I got passed over. They said since I am muggleborn "I couldn't possibly know enough about magical sports to be able to meet the requirements of the job." They didn't even let me get through the full interview._

 _I am not trying to complain, or pass blame. What I am trying to do is tell my story, and hope that it can be one of many to lead our society in a brighter, more inclusive direction. Thank you readers. I hope my story can help you see our world through the eyes of another._

 _Dean Thomas_

Hermione looked up from the paper with tears in her eyes. Dean's story was so like the story of so many others. Not only was she happy that it turned out the way she hoped, but she was happy he got the chance to tell it himself.

Sitting alone in his flat, reading their first ad, Draco couldn't help but smile to himself. He really was a genius. He wished he could see Hermione's reaction. He decided he would do just that.


	8. Chapter 8

**Only the plot belongs to me.**

Chapter 8

When Draco popped out of the floo, the first thing he noticed was Hermione crying. "What the fuck Granger, why are you crying? I thought the ad turned out great, and it couldn't possibly be bad enough to cry over."

"That's why I am crying, you idiot," she retorted, wiping her eyes. "Dean did such a wonderful job. I am just so happy we gave him the opportunity to tell his story. Well, you did really, it was your idea."

"Well I certainly didn't do it so you could act like a Hufflepuff, and get all leaky about someone 'sharing their story.' It was a good campaign move, that's all."

"Well, that may be all it is for you Malfoy, but it means a lot to me," Hermione replied.

Draco didn't respond. He simply sighed, sat down next to her at the kitchen table, and poured himself a cup of coffee from the carafe.

"So Prickly Granger Pear, what's on our agenda today?" Draco drawled.

"I actually can't work today, I'm meeting someone for lunch."

"Who could you possibly be meeting for lunch? Your parents are in Australia, and you no longer have friends."

"Thank you for that gentle reminder. Also, just because Harry and Ron hate me now, does not mean I don't have other friends."

"Uh huh, you totally have other friends. You definitely talk about these other friends all the time," Draco rolled his eyes. "Which of these plethora of 'other friends' will have the honor of meeting you for lunch, then?"

"Not that it is any of your business," Hermione snapped "but I am having lunch with Anthony Goldstein."

"That wanker?! You are not friends with him! I have never heard you talk about him once, and I am literally the only person you talk to."

"Number one," Hermione began her reply, "just because I don't mention it to you, doesn't make something untrue. Number two, you are not the only person I talk to. Number three, how could I plan to have lunch with someone if I didn't talk to them about it first? That proves my point. I do talk to other people."

"Fine," Draco backed down. "Then since when have you and Goldstein been friends?"

"Umm," Hermione hesitated. "Yesterday," she said quietly. "I ran into him at Flourish and Blotts, and he asked me to lunch."

"Wow fast friendship," Draco said scathingly, not quite sure why he was so upset. "So what you're saying is you're going on a date with this arsehole."

Hermione looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Okay, just because someone pissed in your porridge, don't take it out on me, and Anthony isn't an arsehole, you don't even know him."

"Granger, I'm not even eating porridge, that makes no sense, and you don't know him either, that's my point!"

"Okay Draco, you aren't making sense. I am going to get dressed. You can stay for coffee if you want, but for Merlin's sake get rid of the bludger that's clearly wedged itself up your arse."

Draco sat silently and pouted, not sure if he wanted to go home or not. He wasn't exactly sure what he was feeling, but he thought it seemed worryingly close to jealousy.

Hermione stomped angrily around her room, as she tried to find something suitable to wear. Draco's comments about her not having friends were uncalled for, but the real problem was that they were spot on. She hated it when he was right. She really _didn't_ have any friends, and her parents _had_ decided to stay in Australia, after she returned their memories to them. Draco really was the only person she talked to, and he wasn't even really her friend, he was her campaign manager. He was only there because she paid him. Wait, she didn't pay him. On second thought, why was he there? She shook her head quickly to rid herself of the perplexing thought.

"That's exactly why I need to go on this date," she thought to herself. "For goodness sakes, I need somebody else in my life besides Malfoy."


	9. Chapter 9

**Everything Belongs to JK Rowling, except the plot.**

Chapter 9

Unfortunately for Hermione, her date wasn't as successful as she had hoped. Anthony was sweet, he really was, but for goodness sakes he was terribly dull! He droned on and on about his job working for a wizarding law firm, and agreed with every single thing she said. She had thought she liked being right, but for goodness sakes man have some opinions of your own!

Throughout the date, she wished she would have just stayed home and worked on her campaign. There was so much she needed to get done, and she was anxious to get back to the flat and get started. She didn't really want to dwell upon what it signified that she would rather work than have lunch with a handsome man. Maybe it wasn't so much the work, but the company that was so appealing. With that thought, Anthony's voice drug her out of her thoughts.

"Hermione," she heard, muffled by her own thoughts.

"Yes," she answered trying to bring herself to listen.

"You weren't really listening were you?" Anthony asked with a knowing smile.

"I'm so sorry Anthony," she started, "I am just so busy right now and my life is in such upheavel, I don't really think I am in a good place to be seeing anyone right now."

"It's okay Hermione," Anthony chuckled. "I thought as much, but it was worth a try. If you ever do find yourself in a good place, send me an owl, yeah?"

"Will do," Hermione replied with a small smile, as she grabbed for the bill.

"No, no. I got it," Anthony protested.

"Well, thanks," she said, and walked away, thoughts of a certain blonde following her out of the cafe.

When she arrived home, it seemed quiet. She had gotten quite used to having Draco around. When had she begun to think of him as Draco, instead of Malfoy? She really wasn't sure. It was somewhat strange to know how she thought of him now, but "Draco" sounded nice all the same.

She wandered about her flat, doing this and that, catching up on chores, until finally she fell asleep on the couch, a book lain open upon her chest.

Hermione awoke the next morning to Draco loudly clattering around her kitchen.

"How did you get in here?!" she exclaimed.

"Granger old girl," he replied with a smirk. "You really need to make sure you block your floo before falling asleep. You never know what sort of riff raff could come in unannounced."

"Well now I do," she mumbled to herself, as she took the cup of coffee he offered.

"Why are you here so early anyway?" she asked

"I thought you might want to see this," he said, and handed her what appeared to be the Monday edition of the prophet. On the front page was a picture of her, smiling at Anthony Goldstein over a small cafe table under the headline "Candidate for Minister Finds a Man, or Several."

"What in the seven hells is this?!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Well," Draco began, "It seems as if a reporter snapped a photo of you and Goldstein yesterday, looking pretty cozy by the way." He commented with raised eyebrows. That, paired with a lovely interview with your ex ginger, saying that you cheated on him with me, of all blokes, made for an interesting, yet utterly shite, article. You are looking like quite the tart about now. Good thing you have such a good campaign manager to help you clean up the mess," he finished with a wink.

Hermione put her head in her hands. "How in the world am I going to come back from this. This is a public relations nightmare."

"Easy Granger," just play the whole liberated feminist card. You are a progressive candidate, running on progressive values, therefore, what does it matter that you are bumping uglies with half the wizards in Great Britain," Malfoy laughed.

"The matter is that it's not true! I obviously did not cheat on Ronald, and I went on one measly date with Anthony! This is what I get for trying to have a social life! Nothing but a mess comes from making an effort to do something for myself!"

"Measly Granger? Hmmm I guess Goldstein really doesn't know how to charm a lady. Either that or his prick is small, so which is it Granger?"

"Neither, and keep out of my business." she responded dryly.

"Neither, so his prick is big then? Wow Granger, you are a tart playing with a blokes willy on the first date. Just wait until the papers hear of this," he joked.

"Oh just shut up!" Hermione exclaimed, hitting him with the rolled up newspaper. "You know that's not what I meant. "What I meant was, the date was fine, but I won't be going on a another. And, for the record, I did not see his, his thing, don't be daft."

"Cant even call it by it's name, Granger?" well we should feed that to the prophet. They'll certainly stop calling you a tart when they find out you're a big old prude."

Hermione's only response was to sigh and lay her head on the table.

Percy Weasley's response to the article was as expected. He went on Wizarding Wireless Network, that very afternoon, saying that a candidate for Minister should conduct herself with more decency.

He also commented on Sunday's ad, calling it an "Obvious ploy by candidate Granger to invent divisions amongst our society," and "Call upon injustices that don't exist to further her own career."

By the end of the day, Draco was exhausted. He had spend the entire afternoon fielding calls from reporters touting the official statement that there was and never had been anything going on between himself and Hermione. He also stated that Hermione went to one lunch with Goldstein, and the pair decided to remain friends.

With half seven rolling around, Draco decided to search the flat for Hermione. She really should be easier to find being that this was her flat, and a very small one at that. He needed a stiff drink, or five.


	10. Chapter 10

**Everything but the plot belongs to JK Rowling.**

Chapter 10

Five stiff drinks ended up turning into, well, Draco wasn't sure how many. He didn't want to get drunk alone, so he convinced Granger to knock back a few with him. She wasn't very hard to convince. She was actually quite the drinker, something many people would be surprised to find out.

The pair ended up staying up late that night, playing muggle board games, and the last thing Draco remembered was falling asleep on the couch.

Hermione awoke Tuesday morning to find that she was not alone. There was a, not altogether unpleasant, warmth surrounding her in her bed. At first she was too groggy to really worry too much about it. She simply snuggled in and caught another few minutes of sleep.

She was was roused from her slumber by the hoarse voice (that she didn't find even the tiniest bit sexy, no sir) of the warm figure next to her "Great Salazar, Granger, please tell me you have hangover potions around here."

She opened her eyes to see that Draco's upper half was sprawled out awkwardly, while he lower half was spooning her. It seemed strange but she really couldn't complain. After all, he smelled strangely nice, even after a night of heavy drinking. She reached into her bedside drawer, pulled out a small vial, and handed it to him.

He downed the potion in one gulp, and they lay in silence for several minutes.

"How exactly did I get here anyway Granger, we didn't shag did we? Because if we did I would really like to remember it."

"We most definitely did not shag!" she reprimanded. "You must have come in here once I was asleep. You fell asleep on the couch and I went to my bed. I am guessing you came in here in the early hours of the morning and climbed in bed with me. After apparently putting on some of my pajamas," she giggled.

Draco looked down at himself. "Well at least I look good in short shorts, Granger. What kind of pajamas are these anyway? Maybe you are a tart," he teased.

"For your information, it gets very warm in here in the summer," she said flatly. "And don't blame me, you're the one who put them on."

"Sure, sure Granger," he said, pulling her into him. "I don't know about you, but I could use a little more rest this morning," he yawned and closed his eyes, snuggling into her.

She didn't respond, she just laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes. "This should feel weird, shouldn't it?" she thought to herself. But it didn't feel weird, in fact. It felt just right.

The week following their snuggle session was surprisingly free of awkwardness. In fact, in the past week, Draco had made a habit of falling asleep on Granger's couch and joining her in her cozy bed in the wee hours of the morning. He just couldn't help himself, she was just so cute and cuddly, especially in her pjs.

Besides some snuggling, nothing had happened between the pair, and Draco had decided not to worry or think on it. Well, to try at least. He was finding it increasingly difficult to go through any span of time without thinking about the brunette witch.

Who could blame him? He spent almost all his free time with the bloody bint, being annoyed by her. That would get to anybody. Anybody would have a hard time not thinking about a bird then, right? No, it was totally and completely normal and understandable that Draco would have a hard time keeping his mind of Hermione Granger. It didn't mean anything. Nope. Completely and totally normal. Totally platonic. "Friends," he thought. "I've never really had a friend that's a girl before, maybe that's why I feel like this?" he continued his inner conversation. "Yep, good job Draco you figured it out, friends. Totally and completely friends."

By the time the next Wednesday had rolled around, the wizarding world had completely forgotten what a "tart" Hermione Granger was. It seemeda s though they had finally moved on to bigger and better things.

Their next ad had run, penned by Hagrid, and there had been mostly positive feedback in response to the story of the half-giant.

Draco had done a great job of damage control following the damaging article, and things were looking good. Hermione couldn't be more pleased with how things were going. There were 10 weeks left to go until the election, and she felt things were really headed in the right direction.

The next big to do for the campaign was a debate between the candidates, scheduled two weeks from today. Hermione had a lot of preparation to do, especially since she didn't know what questions would be asked, but she was feeling optimistic.

Preparation for the big debate was more time and research intensive than either Draco or Hermione could have predicted. They were especially worried because the Wizengamot would be the ones asking the questions, and this particular gamot was notoriously conservative. They spent hours working on Hermione's arguments on a variety of issues, and even spent some time in the library at Malfoy Manor scanning old law wizarding law books for evidence to back up Hermione's positions.

The thought of going to the Manor had made Hermione apprehensive, but Draco assured her that the two years his father spent in Azkaban had changed his attitude about muggle-borns, and his mother had never truly had that strong of prejudices. Their visit was altogether quite pleasant, Lucius wasn't around and they ended up having a nice tea with Narcissa.

Spending practically every waking moment together was starting to have some side effects. The pair had learned each other's habits to the point that they were able to anticipate one another's' thoughts and needs. For example, based on what time they stopped working the night previously, Draco would be able to anticipate what time Hermione would wake up the next morning within 15 minutes, and would have flood to her flat and made a hot breakfast by the time she was awake. He really was a good campaign manager, and not altogether a bad house elf, Hermione mused.

When the day of the debate came, Hermione had worked herself into a tizzy of nerves. By 10 in the morning, Draco was so fed up of her reciting her notecards to herself like a crazy person, that he dosed her tea with a light sleeping potion. He hoped to knock her out for a good several hours so he could work in peace.

When Hermione woke on the couch several hours later, the small flat became a very unpleasant place for Draco.

"Draco Malfoy how dare you?!" she screamed. "You just cost me three hours of precious time in which I could have been preparing! Now I'll never be ready! Percy is going to stomp all over me all because you were annoyed by my mumbling. You call yourself a campaign manager?! If I lose this debate because of this, I will have your pretty blonde head delivered to me on a silver platter, you mark my words!"

Draco sat and listened to her tirade, mildly amused. He decided not to respond. He simply let her yell and attempted to turn his attention back to his work. He knew she was well prepared. All she was doing now was working herself up to the point that it could impact her performance. He didn't regret the sleeping potion one bit. It saved her three hours over overthinking and doubting herself.

When 5:00 rolled around, Draco had Hermione's outfit laying out on her bed. They had two hours until the debate started, and she was expected to be there early to make sure everything was in place.

She didn't ask him to pick out her outfit, but it was one less thing for her to fret over, and let's face it, he had much better fashion sense. The media, particularly witch weekly, were merciless when it came to that sort of thing. In fact, the only reports witch weekly had run about the election mostly centered around Hermione running about town in athletic wear. Thankfully Hermione didn't read the rag, or she would have had Rita Skeeter back in a jar.


	11. Chapter 11

**Everything but the plot belongs to JK Rowling.**

 **This chapter is a long one, and includes my first sex scene - so hopefully it's decent. Enjoy!**

Chapter 11

It was 15 minutes into the debate, and Draco wasn't sure what to think. Hermione was visibly nervous behind the podium.

He was quite proud of the outfit he had put together. A tight purple dress that came down to her mid calves, and a sensible, but fitted tan blazer. Her arse looked delectable in the tight dress. He tried to dismiss the thought and listen to what was going on.

So far, the only points Percy had gotten in were digs about Hermione's personal life. Thankfully, Hermione brushed it off saying , "One's dating life, or lack thereof, in my case," she joked, "should in no way be the metric by which voters judge a candidate. I would like to be judged on my policy positions, not on what the gossip columnists have to say about my lunch companions." She got quite a few laughs from the crowd. Draco couldn't help but be a bit proud of his witch's witty response.

Wait, his witch? Where did that come from? Hermione Granger, muggle-born bookworm, was certainly not his witch. No matter how much he secretly wanted her to be. "It's fine," he said to himself watching her impress the crowd with her well researched responses to the panel's questions. "It's just a little crush, you'll get over it, you won't have to see her once this bloody campaign is over. You'll get over it. No problem, no siree."

He turned from his thoughts to listen to the next question.

"Ms. Granger," an elderly Warlock began, "not only are you extraordinarily young, but you are also relatively new to our world, and propose ideas that I believe threaten our longstanding traditions and norms, what do you say to those who think that our Minister should be someone well versed in our world, one who understands all the ins and outs of our society?"

Hermione took a deep breath, and Draco could tell she was fighting down irritation. After a few seconds of silence, she began "That is a good question sir," she started, surprising Draco with her politeness at the Warlock's thinly veiled racism.

"I am new to this world, especially relative to the esteemed members of the Wizengamot, but that is exactly what we need. Without new blood, both figuratively and literally, our society will die out. Creatures that don't adapt, don't survive. Our society is at risk of losing our lives because we simply cannot adapt. Instead of abhorring muggles, we should take a cue from them. They are inventing and acquiring new ideas. Progressing their society at an impressive rate. Yet, we stand here like it is the middle ages, unchanging. If we fail to adapt, the young will start to reject our stagnate culture, and where will your traditions be then?"

"I am not only speaking figuratively when I say that if we do not accept change, we will die out. New research suggests that fertility rates in couples, in which both partners are pureblood, have much lower fertility rates than those in which one or both partners have mixed blood or are muggle born. This has to be addressed. Before you react, I am not saying that we need to make a law to make purebloods marry muggleborns or anything ridiculous like that. What I am saying is that if we don't stop the prejudice that is so ingrained in our institutions and 'traditions,' the trend of blood with like blood will continue. Then, not only will our traditions die out, but our people will too. There is so much more at risk here than we realize, and we cannot just sit back and let the status quo do. I believe it would be dangeriously irresponsible to do so."

Draco smiled and watched as not only the crowd, but the Wizengamot, sat silently for a few moments and took in her words.

"You're rebuttal Undersecretary Weasley?" the moderator said.

Draco listened to Percy stumble through a poorly thought out response. He clearly hadn't seen this coming. The rest of the debate went smoothly for Hermione, and Draco couldn't wipe the smile off his face.

After the debate the pair stumbled out of the floo, practically delirious with relief and excitement.

"Granger, that was fucking amazing! You nailed that prick to the wall!" Draco exclaimed.

"I know," she grinned broadly, "I didn't know I had it it me to be honest, thank you so much for all your help preparing! I couldn't have done it without you," she rambled excitedly and threw herself in his arms.

He put his arms around her, he could smell her all around him, her vanilla scent penetrating his senses. When she pulled back and looked at him, he couldn't help himself. She smelled so good and she was so fucking beautiful standing there smiling at him, excitement shimmering in her warm, brown eyes. He slammed his lips on hers aggressively, and weaved his hands through her thick curls.

After a moment of hesitation, Hermione responded in kind, moving her lips in sync with his.

"Oh God," Hermione thought to herself, as Draco's tongue softly, but firmly, brushed against her own. "His lips are so damn soft she thought, and his tongue. What I wouldn't give to feel that tongue on my...wait" she thought. "I can't do this! He is my campaign manager! It is a conflict of interest. This is bad Hermione bad, bad! Stop this right now Hermione or there will be consequences!" she continued to lecture herself.

The moment Draco's smooth lips moved down to the sensitive spot on her neck under her ear, her inner lecture stopped and all coherent thought went out the window. "Ohhh" she moaned aloud as he continued to move his lips downward towards her chest.

When his lips reached her collarbone, he started to slowly unbutton her shirt. Her jacket had already been lost in the frenzy of kisses, she really couldn't tell when exactly. As he worked on her buttons, she began on his.

He whispered in her ear, "Hermione, are you sure you want to do this?"

Any reservations she might have still held went out the window when she heard him whisper her name.

"Gods yes, Draco," she replied.

"Oh, I love how that sounds coming from your mouth," he moaned. "I am going to make you say it again and again,"

She felt her already damp knickers become soaked at his words, and she could feel his erection pressed up against her. By this time, he had pressed her up against the wall, pressing his hard body into her in a way that felt perfect.

"Draco," she began. "Would you mind if we moved this to the bedroom?" she whispered shyly.

Draco didn't respond. He only picked her up and began to carry her to the room. She wrapped her legs around his waist and began kissing his neck fervently. By the time they made their way to the bed, somehow both their shirts had come off, as well as her skirt.

Their lips continued their assault on one another, while their hands explored each others' bodies.

Hermione was lost to thought by the time Draco slipped his hands inside her knickers and began to gently rub her clit in circles.

Hermione let out a small mewling sound, and he must have taken it as permission to continue, because she felt one finger slowly enter her, soon joined by another. Hermione moaned into Draco's ear.

"Merlin Granger, you are so wet for me," he whispered hoarsly.

At his words hermione's arousal only grew, heat coiling in her belly and building. Draco continued his ministrations, removing her knickers in the process as she worked on the buttons of his pants. When she was painfully close to her release, he stopped, quickly rid himself of his underwear, and posed himself at her entrance.

"Please, Draco" she whispered.

With that, he entered her in one quick thrust and paused. "Gods granger, you're so fucking tight," he moaned, staying still. She grabbed his arse, digging her nails in, taking in the pleasurable feeling of being so full.

Draco began to move slowly, she could feel every inch of him with each stroke. Every time he pushed, she felt him nudge that sweet spot deep inside of her, slowly bringing her back to the brink, closer and closer to the sweet release she craved. She tried to keep quiet, but couldn't help but mewling in pleasure.

"Don't be quiet Granger, I want to hear you. I want to hear you say my name when you come."

"Okay," she said, almost timidly. She had never been loud in bed before, she thought would be embarrassing to let a man know how much he could affect her, but if he wanted to hear her she would let loose a bit.

"Look at me, Granger. When you come, I want you to look me in the eyes and say my name, do you understand?" he said as he continued to thrust in and out of her.

"Yes, she gasped, feeling his cock buried deep inside her, reveling in the feeling.

He began to quicken his strokes, she could tell he was getting closer, and so was she.

She began to feel the buildup of her orgasm as his cock continued to fill her and push that sweet spot.

Both of their breathing became ragged, and when she knew she was about to come she grabbed his face, looked him straight in the eyes, and moaned his name loudly, as she rode the waves of bliss.

A few strokes later, she felt him pulse inside of her, and felt him coat her inner walls.

When they were finished, he slowly pulled out of her, pulled her to lay on top of him, and they lay silently, catching their breath.


	12. Chapter 12

**Nothing belongs to me.**

Chapter 12

"So... should I cast a contraception charm or….." Draco trailed off.

"Nope, potion," Hermione replied, still short of breath from their encounter.

"That was….wow," Draco said tiredly.

"Yeah, wow" Hermione responded. Her absent tone, combined with the faroff look in her eyes, told Draco she was now deep in thought. He had no doubt that look indicated she was over analyzing what just happened.

After a few seconds, Draco broke the silence. "Granger?"

No response

"Granger? Hello, earth to Granger?"

"Sorry," she replied "just..."

"Thinking," Draco finished.

"Yeah."

"Listen Granger, don't worry yourself over this. You already have enough on your plate. That was honestly some of the best sex I've ever had, but if you don't want it to happen again that's fine. I can deal with that," Draco lied. In fact, he didn't think he could deal with it if she wanted this to just be a one off.

"No, well, I don't know," Hermione responded slowly, clearly conflicted. "Here's the thing," she started, "The sex was obviously great. Props to you, by the way. And, strange as it is, I actually like spending time with you.."

"I'm really not seeing the problem here," Draco cut in.

"The problem is that I'm afraid if we keep doing this we won't be able to keep it just sex. We spend all our time together as it is. I think it would be very difficult to keep from getting attached."

"Is that all you want it to be? Just sex?" Draco questioned, a sinking feeling in his stomach at the thought of having nothing more.

"Yes, well no, I dont know!" she yelled. "There's all this pressure now to figure out what I want, and I don't fucking know! Okay! I have no fucking clue what I want!" Hermione had worked herself up to tears at this point, and Draco's heart was breaking jus seeing how worried she was.

He wrapped his arms around her, and rubbed her back soothingly. "Shhh Hermione, don't worry okay. I am not going to pressure you. I am here for whatever you need okay. I am not going to lie, I don't know what I want either, so let's just not stress about it. We can just figure it out day by day and see what happens. For now, all I know is that I want to keep working on your campaign like I have been, and I definitely want that sex to happen again," he smiled. " I don't know what will happen after the election, but we will cross that bridge when we come to it."

"Okay," Hermione yawned, seemingly placated. The pair continued to lie there, Hermione in Draco's arms. Within a few minutes she was fast asleep.

As he watched Hermione sleep, Draco decided one thing. He did know what he wanted, and he wanted Hermione Granger to be his.

Hermione woke up to Draco waving coffee and a bagel in her face. "Good morning future minister Granger, can I interest you in some refreshments?" he smirked.

"Shut up and give me the fucking coffee," Hermine retorted. It was far too early to be amused by such antics.

"My my, shouldn't our future minister be have better morals than to use such language," Draco pretended to be scandalized.

"Yeah well, she should also probably have better morals than to fuck her campaign manager, but here we are," Hermione responded dryly.

"Touche, Granger. Oh and here is your copy of the rag that passes for news these days," he said, handing her the Prophet.

Hermione grabbed the paper and started reading the front page story covering the debate last night. Draco snuggled in beside her and read over her shoulder.

She thought that this should feel strange, but it didn't. To be honest, it was the most comfortable she had felt in a very long time.


	13. Chapter 13

**Everything except the plot belongs to JK Rowling. Also thank you to those who have reviewed - I really appreciate it!**

Chapter 13

Time passed quickly. Before Draco knew it, there were exactly two weeks until election night.

Draco awoke feeling suffocated, and no not emotionally. He was literally being suffocated. It felt as if someone were smothering him with a very hairy pillow. It took him a few moments to get his bearings, and realize the copious amounts of hair obstructing his breathing belonged to Hermione. He cleared his airway and stared at the sleeping Granger.

It wasn't often he got to see her like this, so calm and peaceful. Daytime Granger was nothing short of a hurricane of action and anxiety. It was only asleep that she showed any semblance of calm. He smiled, and realized that in spite of his near death experience, this was the happiest he had been on a Monday morning since he could remember.

He wanted to stay in bed and snuggle a while longer, but his full bladder protested. He gave Hermione a quick peck on the forehead and headed to the loo.

About twenty minutes later, Draco sat at the breakfast bar in Hermione's kitchen, steaming cup of coffee in hand. He sipped his drink, while contemplating how they had gotten where they are. Those thoughts inevitably evolved into ones of where they went from here, particularly after the election was through.

They hadn't spoken of what exactly was going on between them since their first night together. He wasn't great with all that emotional shite, but he had to admit to himself, this was the happiest and most content he had been since he was a child. He didn't want this to end after the election. He liked fighting with Granger during the day, watching her get all worked up over any given subject. He liked making love to her, and falling asleep with her in his arms. He loved waking up to her, even if her hair did try to kill him on occasion.

If he was honest with himself, he didn't really know if Granger wanted to continue this after the election. Maybe this was just a convenient shag for her. She was awfully busy with the campaign, and it would take a lot of time and effort to go out and find someone else. Maybe this had a deadline to her, and maybe that deadline was in two fucking weeks.

That thought made his heart twinge painfully. He couldn't have that. He would have to make her his permanently. He wouldn't settle for any less. If she wanted to end things after the election, that was just too fucking bad for her. He would find a way to make her want to keep him around permanently. He had lived life without Hermione Granger before, and he most definitely did not want to go back to that.

Two weeks from election night, Hermione woke to the sounds of Draco banging around in the kitchen. He really was quite loud in the mornings.

Despite the rude awakening, Hermione couldn't help but smile. It was nice hearing him up preparing breakfast. She had really gotten used to having him around all the time.

She lay in bed for a long while, contemplating how comfortable they had become with each other. It had only been a short time, but she had really grown quite attached to him. She couldn't wait until the election was over in a few weeks so they could do normal things like other couples do.

That thought stopped her happy thoughts dead in their tracks. Two weeks. Two weeks, and the election was over. They hadn't talked about what would happen when he was no longer her campaign manager. She had started thinking of them as a couple, but what if this was just a convenient shag for him? He surely didn't have time to go out and shag bimbos while he was working so much on the campaign. Maybe she was just an easy substitute. What if he didn't want to continue on with her after the campaign? She didn't want to think about it.

Should she talk to him about it? But what if she did and he said he said they were done with the end of the campaign? Then, not only would he know she wanted more, but she would put herself out there and get rejected. That was not something she thought she could handle. But could she handle the uncertainty of not knowing?

She decided she would just take each day as it comes. Better live with a little uncertainty than put herself out there and get ripped to pieces.


	14. Chapter 14

**Everything but the plot belongs to JK Rowling. After this, there will be one more chapter, and an epilogue. Thanks for hanging in there with me!**

Chapter 14

The Saturday before the election was a perfect crisp fall day. It was the kind of day Hermione loved. The kind where the weather is cool enough for a cozy sweater, but not cold enough that you need a coat. She decided that today was a perfect day to run some errands.

Hermione was out and walking lazily down the street in Diagon Alley by mid-morning. She was taking her time, enjoying the light breeze, and appeal of the familiar scents wafting out of various shops. Before commencing her shopping, she decided to pop into Wizard's Brew for a coffee before running the rest of her errands.

She opened the door to the small cafe, and felt warm air, and the comforting smell of coffee and pastries, greet her. Standing in line, she decided on a black coffee and a pumpkin pasty, make that two pumpkin pasties. If she came home without a treat for Draco he would spend the whole rest of the day whinging. "Weird that I just expect him to still be there," she mumbled to herself, and wrinkling her nose.

It had become Draco's habit to spend almost all his time at Hermione's flat. He only occasionally returned to his to grab clean clothes, and often some terribly unhealthy snack that Hermione refused to keep in her kitchen.

She spent the rest of her time in line worrying about whether that comfy habit of his would continue past Monday.

While she was waiting in line, she felt the uncomfortable prickling feeling on the back of her neck. The feeling she got when she was being stared at unawares. She looked around the shop, and was beyond irritated when she spotted the group unashamedly gawking at her. Ron, accompanied by Lavender Brown (not surprising, he did always seem to go back to that little bint whenever he had a bit of a dry patch), Ginny, and Harry. All but Harry were staring at her and whispering, not even trying to be subtle about it. She heard the words "slut," and "pathetic" thrown in a few times. She couldn't help but roll her eyes. Harry didn't participate, she noted. He just sat looking rather uncomfortable. Harry certainly wasn't an angel, but he never was one for pointless gossip.

Hermione let out a huff of breath, and turned back around. Thankfully, as she did, the barista called her name and set her order on the counter. She grabbed it quickly and walked out of the warm shop. She carried on with her errands, trying to keep the vexing indident out of her mind. If her former friends were bent on being that immature, she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of dwelling on it.

Sunday morning, Draco sat at the breakfast bar in Hermione's flat, drinking his coffee and reading the last of their campaign ads.

He had to pat himself on the back for his own genius in coming up with the idea. This last one especially was exactly what Hermione's campaign needed. They had managed to gain the support of former Hogwarts professor, and current werewolf, Remus Lupin. He had written a wonderful piece about the flaws in the current werewolves' rights laws, and how they affected those living with lycanthropy.

Draco wasn't really surprised by the high quality of the writing. Lupin did always seem like a smart bloke, though he wouldn't have admitted it in his younger years.

A few hours later found Draco and Hermione sitting on the floor around the coffee table, reviewing polling data, and discussing wording for both concession and victory speeches. The polls for the general populace put Hermione far ahead, but the polls of Wizengamot members essentially had the two candidates head to head. If a candidate won the popular vote and lost the Wizengamot, or the other way around, the candidates would spend a week defending their policy positions, before a recall election would be held. This would happen again and again until a consensus was reached. Although this rarely happened, it could result in a stalemate, with nothing getting done in government. It really was a terrible system.

The pair were disrupted from their work by the telltale roar of the floo. The Boy Who Just Wouldn't Die stumbled out of the floo and into Hermione's living room. He was met with stunned silence from both Draco and his witch (he only called her that in his head, but he was hoping that after the election he could start using it out loud).

"Er, hello, um Hermione, erm, could I have a word for a minute?"

Draco's mouth formed into a thin line, and he had to keep himself from audibly growling, but when he looked over at Hermione, her eyes were soft.

"It's okay. Draco, could you give us a minute?" she said softly.

"Yeah, I suppose. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

The kitchen was the perfect spot to "give them some privacy" but also hear every word they were saying. Draco could see them through the open archway door, and pretended to read the newspaper while listening to their hushed conversation.

"Um Hermione," Potter began, "I'm not really sure where to start. I am really sorry about everything, especially what happened the other day at the cafe. You don't deserve that at all. They were being really immature, and I should have said something to them."

"It's not a problem, Harry," Hermione responded. Draco had to fight back a snort of derision. "Thankfully my self esteem does not depend on Lavender Brown's opinion of me," she said hotly.

"Yeah, well, it was really out of line. We all have been, especially me and Ron. I don't know what we were thinking. I guess I was just shocked and didn't know what to think, and he was being well…"

"Ron," Hermione supplied.

"Yeah that about sums it up."

"I also want to apologize for everything we said about you and Malfoy. That was way off Hermione and you didn't deserve that. I know you would never cheat on Ron, and I certainly know you would never sleep with Malfoy."

"I am," Hermione started, "sleeping with him, that is. But it didn't start until Ron and I were broken up, I wouldn't do that to someone, even a git like him," she finished quickly.

"Oh…" Potter replied. "Well, um, I suppose what you do in that department is none of my business, and I'm sorry anyhow."

"You're right, it's not."

"Is it serious?"

"Honestly Harry, I don't know."

"Oh, well, Er, do you suppose we could have coffee sometime this week and we could catch up, you know, talk about it?"

"I really don't want to discuss my sex life with you, Harry."

"Erm, that's not when I meant," Potter stumbled on his words, his hand scratching the back of his neck."

"I know Harry," Hermione chuckled. "Coffee sounds good, owl me?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure you have a lot of work to do."

"Yeah, I do, so I'll see you this week?" Hermione said with a small smile.

Potter gave her a small wave and disappeared via the floo.

Draco continued to read the paper for a few more moments, contemplating his romantic situation. She said she didn't know if it was serious. Did that mean she wanted it to be, or she didn't want it to be? Or was she just saying that to get Potter off her back? The questions swirled around in his head. He needed to cement his position in her life. He wanted it to be serious, the seriousest in fact.

He decided there was nothing for it besides continuing to be as supportive and affectionate as possible. He slowly walked back in the living room and resumed his seat on the floor next to her.

"You heard every word of that didn't you?" she asked with a chuckle, raising an eyebrow.

"Sure did," he responded with a cheeky grin, and placed a small kiss on her forehead.


	15. Chapter 15

**Everything but the plot belongs to JK Rowling.**

 **This is it, just this chapter and the epilogue! Eeek!**

Chapter 15

Mid-morning on Monday, Hermione sat at her kitchen table with a cup of tea, nervously tapping her fingers.

"Goddamnit Hermione, would you please just fucking stop!" Draco growled through his clenched jaw. " I am trying to read! If you need your hands busy, go knit a hat or something. That's something women do, right?"

"I'm not Molly Weasley," Hermione chuckled. "Look at me. What in the world makes you think I know how to knit?"

"Well, nothing," Draco began, "but you need to do something to get your nerves in check. Everything is taken care of. You need to just relax. There is nothing we can do at this point. It's up to the voters now."

When Draco looked back to his book, Hermione let her face fall into a small frown. Draco was obviously annoyed by her. That's what happens when you spend so much time with someone. You get annoyed. Either that, or you start to find their flaws endearing.

Hermione looked at Draco's face, scrunched in concentration, it was an ugly expression, but she found it cute. She obviously thought Draco's little quirks were endearing, but judging from his harsh words, he did not feel the same way. Her mind wandered to tomorrow, worrying about the future of their relationship, if that's what this was. He seemed quite irritated with her. Why would he want to stick around with someone who annoyed him?

She tried to mentally prepare herself for his departure. She tried to picture what it would be like if she returned to the flat tomorrow, and all his things were gone. In fact, she was more worried about that than the outcome of the election. Damn, she had it bad.

She knew Draco heard her conversation with Harry yesterday, the one when she said she didn't know if what they had was serious. What did he think of that? Should she ask him? She felt like she had put herself in a vulnerable position when she said she didn't know, instead of brushing Harry's comment off. Obviously, if she didn't know, it seemed like it was something she was open to. She was more than open to it, praying for it really, but Draco didn't need to know that. If he didn't want anything more than a short lived fling, knowledge that she wanted more left her vulnerable to him.

Ugh, men. She thought campaign's were exhausting, but it was nothing compared to the blonde enigma at her breakfast table.

The only sound Draco could hear was his own steps on the hardwood floor. He slowly walked about the grand ballroom of the event venue he had rented for that night. In a few hours the space would be filled with people, food, booze, and unfortunately, the press. He was putting the last minute details in place for the election night celebration, and he had sent the venue's staff away because they were irritating him with their incessant questions. If you want something done right, you really have to do it yourself.

He had left a still panicking Hermione in the hands of her hairstylist and a bottle of wine. Hopefully the alcohol would rid her of her nerves, otherwise he wasn't sure Hermione would make it through the night without a full blown panic attack, and he might not make it through the night without giving her a particularly strong draught of the living death.

Hermione took a deep breath as she stepped into the ballroom at the Grand Marsaille Hotel. It was best event venue in the wizarding world, and thanks to Draco's shameless flirting with the very flamboyant concierge, they had managed to book it for election night. It was in this ballroom that her final foray into politics would either end or begin.

The evening would begin with cocktail hour, followed by a five course meal, and of course, more drinks. They had charmed the wall at the front of the ballroom to display the vote count in real time. Sort of a wizarding version of an "election watch party." Once the final tally was tabulated, Hermione would give one of her two meticulously planned speeches. She had heard Percy Weasley was holding a similar event at an upscale restaurant in Diagon Alley. Git.

People would begin arriving in around an hour. Hermione was completely ready except for her outfit, which she hoped would be okay. She knew it would be okay because Draco picked it out, but she was still nervous. The dress toed the line between professional and sexy, and she was worried it would be too much one way or the other.

Hermione had spent the whole afternoon while getting her hair and nails done panicking. Draco had insisted she have at least a little wine to calm her nerves. She had taken a few sips, but then discreetly poured the rest down the sink. She would have time to drink after she had given her speech.

She headed to what was to be her dressing room behind the stage. It was going to be a long night.

Hermione absentmindedly watched the caterers clean up the remnants of the party. She sat alone in stunned silence. It had been two hours since the results were announced, and she still couldn't believe it. She felt almost numb, still in shock she supposed.

After sitting for a few minutes, she let her mind wander to what came next. She hadn't really thought that far. Of course she had thought of what she would do if she became minister, but what about tomorrow? She would wake up and tomorrow would be a new day, and she had no idea what to do with it.

"So you won the election, what are you going to do now Minister Granger," Draco said in a faux announcer voice, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her small frame.

"Going to Disney World," she said quietly with a small smile. It felt good to be held like this after such a long day.

"What the fuck is Disney World? Is that a planet I don't know about?" Draco queried.

"Nevermind, muggle joke," she chuckled.

"Let's get you home, Minister," Draco whispered tenderly, placing a soft kiss on the top of her head.

"Sounds good to me," she said, and they apparate back to Hermione's flat.

When they appeared in her living room, Hermione's nerve's kicked in. Was he going to leave? Had he just apparated her home to be nice, and now he was going to go back home and they would pretend like their relationship had never happened? She had to say something, she needed to know what he was thinking.

"I know we never talked about it, you know, what we do next, um, with us, but er, would you like to stick around for a celebratory drink at least?" she whispered hopefully.

"Oh my sweet Granger pie," he smiled. "I plan on sticking around for a very long time."


	16. Epilogue

**Here it is - the end! Thank you all for sticking with this story. As always, everything but the plot belongs to JK Rowling**

Epilogue

7 years later

"Fuck!" Draco Malfoy groaned as he thrust into his wife.

"Draco!" his wife whispered, "Be quiet, you'll wake up Cassie!"

"She is the one who wanted a little brother or sister," he chuckled quietly, before sucking on Hermione's neck and punctuating his sentence with another hard thrust."

"Just shut up and fuck me!" Hermione whispered, grabbing his tight arse and pushing him deeper into her.

"Oh shit Hermione," he whispered, "Still so fucking tight, and so wet for me, gods."

Her only response was a stifled moan, as she tried to keep quiet, willing their 4 year old to continue her deep slumber in the room next door.

"You feel so good love, are you going to come for me?" He whispered, snaking his hand between their sweaty bodies to rub her clit in the small circles that always sent her over the edge.

"Yes, so bloody close!" she whined.

Draco pinched her clit at the same time as he thrust particularly hard into her fluttering pussy, and she fell over the edge. He could feel her walls squeezing around his cock, willing him to follow her.

"Yes, fuck, I'm coming," Draco whispered, feeling his wife's pussy milk him until he was spent.

When they had both come down from their high, Draco moved off his beautiful wife, and lay quietly, stroking her wild hair.

"Do you think we're really ready for another one?" Hermione whispered softly to him.

"We weren't ready for Cass, and look how perfect she is."

"You're right, I'm just overthinking things."

"You think?" Draco chuckled. "You aren't even pregnant yet, and you're already freaking out. Based on experience, I know you will only get more nervous with all those crazy pregnancy hormones. Luckily they also come with hot pregnancy sex," he smirked.

"It's been an eventful few years, hasn't it?" Hermione mused quietly in his ear.

"It certainly has, love." He said, quietly kissing her collarbone.

"I'm going to take a quick shower before bed, if you fall asleep before I'm out, I love you and sleep tight." she kissed his cheek and headed towards the bathroom.

Draco mused about how crazy his life had really become since Hermione had come back into it.

She had taken office two months after the election, and immediately appointed him as her under-secretary. A few members of the Wizengamot had voted against his appointment, saying it was a conflict of interest, and shaming his former death eater status. Thankfully, he and Hermione were able to prove that he was the best, and the most qualified, person for the job.

They were now in their sixth year of marriage, and Hermione was in her second term as minister. He had stayed on as her second in command, until four years ago when Cassie was born. That was when he decided that staying at home with his daughter was what he really wanted to do.

He had come back into Hermione's life because he wanted to do something worthwhile. He really had gotten exactly what he wanted.


End file.
